


Plus longue que la vie

by vivelarepublique



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, logic and philosophy week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivelarepublique/pseuds/vivelarepublique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras' thoughts of home turn to thoughts of Combeferre.</p>
<p>Written to add to the joy that is Logic and Philosophy week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus longue que la vie

**Author's Note:**

> Title from René Char's _Feuillets d'Hypnos_ , number 110: "L'étérnité n'est guère plus longue que la vie," "Eternity is hardly longer than life."
> 
> I just really like the idea of Enjolras and Combeferre being from Midi, in particular Provence, especially after studying there this summer.

For Enjolras, being with Combeferre was like coming home. Well, for Enjolras, Combeferre was many things, his best friend, his partner, his guide... But he was also home. Though they had met each other far from the purple fields and blue skies of Provence, Combeferre still carried the smell of lavender and seemed to bring a fresh burst of _le Mistral_ to Paris. 

But Enjolras was not one predisposed to gross displays of sentimentality, and he did not sigh away the days longing for the sun and smells of Provence, leaving such brooding to Jean Prouvaire, who was far better at it. No, Enjolras was happy to be in Paris. Paris is where change was going to happen, he could feel it, the tensions in the street, the glint in the workers’ eyes...

“Enjolras, you’re working yourself to death,” Courfeyrac whined, prodding at Enjolras’ shoulder with a spare pen.

“Mmm,” was Enjolras’ eloquent response, too absorbed in the letter he was writing to pay Courfeyrac much mind. Besides, he had learned that once engaged, Courfeyrac proved harder to deter from his objective of getting Enjolras to leave his rooms. There were too many letters to write, suppliers to reach, guns and gunpowder to acquire...

_“Enjolras,”_ Courfeyrac whined, louder and at a higher pitch. Enjolras was reminded of a puppy; Courfeyrac was loyal and loving, yes, but also demanded constant attention.

Just then, the lock to the door clicked and with a dramatic swoop, in came Combeferre and his token stack of books.

Courfeyrac leaped up, “Combeferre! Enjolras won’t come out and he’s been working for _hours!”_

Combeferre gave an “ouf!” as he placed the new stack of books next to an even taller stack, then turned towards the two of them with a sigh. “Enjolras, how long have you been working?”

Enjolras stopped his scribbling and carefully replaced his pen in the inkwell. He sat up to better respond, and winced, not realizing how sore his back was. How long had it been? “Since this morning. Or last night. I can’t quite recall.” His body then betrayed him by making him yawn widely.

Combeferre smiled, eyes warm. “Okay Courfeyrac, I think Enjolras needs to stay in tonight and get some rest. But we can all meet for lunch tomorrow, how does that sound?”

Courfeyrac gave a grin. “That would be splendid! I must get along though, I promised to meet Bahorel in a quarter of an hour.” Contented, with an elegant sweeping motion, hat and coat were replaced, good-byes exchanged, and Courfeyrac was gone.

Enjolras began to turn back to his letter, but Combeferre was quick to put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Enjolras, you really should get some rest.”

Enjolras sighed as he unconsciously leaned into the touch, accompanied by the ever-present smell of lavender that hung around Combeferre. He was often unaware how tense he was until a small touch from Combeferre made his muscles relax.

Combeferre gave a fond smile, and taking Enjolras’ hand, led him to the bedroom. He delicately unbuttoned Enjolras’ waistcoat, removed it, and handed Enjolras his nightshirt, allowing him to shed his shirt and trousers as he did the same. Enjolras slipped into the rumpled bedsheets as Combeferre grabbed a book and curled up next to him. With a sigh, Enjolras let himself lean his head on Combeferre’s shoulder.

“You really are tired,” Combeferre said softly, a fond smile playing on his lips. Enjolras gave a small noise of acquiescence, to which Combeferre pressed a kiss into his hair.

“You’re comfortable,” Enjolras murmured.

“I aim to please,” Combeferre laughed, a warm sound, one of many things about Combeferre that made Enjolras realize how much he loved him.

“But I must ask,” and at this Enjolras sat up slightly, and Combeferre raised an eyebrow at him, putting his book on the bedside table. “How is it that you always smell of lavender?"

Combeferre gave a sage nod. “I assume you are referring to _Lavandula angustifolia.”_

“I assume?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow himself. “Is there another lavender I should know about?”

“You could be referring to lavandin, _L_ _avandula x intermedia,_ a recent hybrid whose medicinal purposes are promising.”

“I dare say I am not up-to-date on the breeding of different forms of lavender... But ah yes, your family deals with lavender production, do they not?”

Combeferre smiled, “Yes, in the Basses-Alpes. In summer, the smell is inescapable.”

“There are much different smells that are inescapable in the Parisian summer.”

Combeferre grimaced. “Yes, I found lavender worked well to help cover up the smells after long shifts at the Necker, and have continued to do so, though have ceased to notice the smell myself. But I suppose it is worth it if you appreciate it.” A pensive pause, and then, “I never took you to be one for parfum.”

Enjolras’ nose wrinkled. “Perfumes are overpowering to me, but you... You smell like home.”

“Well, we do live together...”

Enjolras gave him an affectionate smack on the arm, followed by what was intended to be a chaste kiss, but ended up lingering, Combeferre’s hands in Enjolras’ hair distracting him. It took Enjolras a moment to remember what he had been saying before picking up his train of thought again. “That is, you carry with you that bit of Provence that I never think to miss, but is somehow...a comfort."

Combeferre pulled Enjolras to him. “As you are a comfort to me.”

“Am I?” Enjolras replied, lacing Combeferre’s hand with his.

“Well,” Combeferre began, rubbing his thumb over Enjolras’ knuckles absently, “If I remind you of the fields of Provence, then you remind me of its sun. You bring light into my life both in terms of warmth and revolutionary fervor.”

Enjolras’ face flushed. “Well I aspire to the latter and am flattered by the former.” And at that, he let out an impressive yawn.

Combeferre gave him another kiss to the cheek. “But all creatures of nature need their rest, and even the sun must yield to the moon each night.”

“In this and many things, you are right,” Enjolras smiled, and the two drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, needing not to dream of faraway skies, because they had found a home in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was completely self-indulgent fluff, as I am totally in a particularly intense "I love Combeferre" phase and have had the idea of him smelling of lavender ever since studying abroad in Aix-en-Provence this summer. The smell is truly inescapable and it is lovely! 
> 
> Hopefully there are not too terribly many anachronisms, and apologies for any! I basically just threw a bunch of my Provençal Amis headcanons at this fic and hoped they would stick... Now for a list of some of the French references.
> 
> _Le Mistral_ : A particularly strong wind that blows through the south of France, originating in Italy and working its way over the Alps, bringing a cool breeze with it. Super strong in Avignon...!
> 
> Lavandin: Not as pretty smelling as lavender, but does has different medicinal qualities.
> 
> _Basses-Alpes_ : The Low Alps, low enough they are not covered in snow year-round, and again, found in Provence.
> 
> Again, a very self-indulgent little fic, but I hope you enjoyed! (/o\\) I do love these two. <3 If there is anything any I missed, feel free to ask me about them, either here or on tumblr at [vivelarepublique](http://vivelarepublique.tumblr.com)! :) Feel free to come say hi!


End file.
